


Antidepressant

by LunarStorm



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Sennen Items | Millennium Items, Slow Burn, Tendershipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarStorm/pseuds/LunarStorm
Summary: Rewrite of a similar story I've since deleted.Six months after everything settled, the hollow feelings haven't gone away and who knows if reconciliation is even possible now. Even still, they have to rely on each other, especially when an old threat begins to rise again.





	1. Anxiety

**TW Disturbing imagery in this chapter. It should be the only one with this kind of explicit imagery, if you are not okay with gore I will mark the beginning and end of it with ****

* * *

Ryou laid awake, staring up at the ceiling at the light dead center in his room. The faint passing of cars offset the sound of his own breathing, the light shifting across the walls when the occasional car drove down his street. He watched the light trail across the room until it faded with the tires. It was so, disgustingly, annoyingly, perpetually quiet. For the first time in 13 years he had absolute silence. He had no mockery in the back of his mind, no obnoxious laughter, only himself.

He’d dreamed of this day for so long, since the first child was sucked into a doll, he’d dreamed of it. Every waking hour of his life since age 5 had been filled with the chiding quips from some ancient _monster_ that had grown so familiar it was as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. Now it was gone.

Ryou sat up and stared at his lap, trying to clear his head. He hoped the new position would make him feel better. Water started to hit the window, gentle at first. Ryou stared at it as the droplets began to collect and drip down the pane.

He didn’t know how to feel. Someone like Yugi could miss his spirit, the Pharaoh had been good to him, maybe not at first but certainly once they had a real rhythm going. Ryou wondered idly if Malik ever felt this way about his other personality after he vanished too, though the one time he’d gotten to meet him he’d seemed fine. Maybe it was just him then. Silently wondering if he should feel sorrow or relief and not knowing which to side with.

The rain picked up and Ryou could hear distant thunder. He’d been back home for maybe six months at this point. It had been six months of him with his own thoughts after waking up in a tomb in Egypt of all places. That seemed to be the story of his life, though. Months gone in a blink and he’s got to deal with the aftermath of the Spirit’s mess. The constant feeling that his friends never quite trusted that he was who he said he was, not that he blamed them. From what Ryou understood, the Spirit had a nasty habit of pretending to be him.

After the group returned, they were much more relaxed. The trip back was fine, and their company was genuine and welcoming and ever so willing to let him in. And then, when they arrived back in Domino and dispersed, the loneliness set in. Loneliness and paranoia. Everywhere he went he expected to hear some wry quip about whatever he was doing, quips that never came. It was maddening. He was so hollow.

Ryou gripped his head, all his thoughts swirled constantly, and he was so tired of feeling like this. It had gotten so bad that even in the company of his friends he just felt so damn hollow. Lightning flashed, lighting up the room and overhead thunder boomed.

He was the empty vessel of an entity greater than him left to wander the earth. Desperation filled his chest, welling with the loneliness, and Ryou could feel his heart beat against his chest as if seeking freedom. He could no longer breathe. A hand moved from pulling at his hair to gripping the fabric of his pajamas. He tried desperately to count his breaths out, calm the raging intake that served only to make him choke further. After a moment he let his shirt go and fell back against the now cool sheets, arms out to the sides.

He really was pitiful wasn’t he?

That thought was interrupted by a huge lightning strike and thunder that shook the whole house. Once it faded, a loud thud and splat from his backyard caught his attention and caused him to frown. Ryou got up and peered out the window, eyes widening at what he saw sitting in the rain.

* * *

Darkness filled every crevice of his being, it was cold and burned at the same time. Every breath he took was visible, his body shivering violently in the icy abyss. He’d been here before. He’d spent thousands of years here, but this time was different.

Time had always flowed so differently in the shadows, stretching and shrinking to suit pain and suffering. He didn’t even know how long he’d been there, his body unable to move due to the agony. The punishments came in waves, things shambled out of the mist, crawling to him. They dragged their wretched bodies, gnarled and mangled, creeping at him making horrid noises. They gasped and retched and wheezed, large eyes fixated on their prize. Things with hands whose fingers were unnaturally long and thin, bone scraping against the ground as it physically dragged itself closer. Other things had teeth growing out of every part, mouths extended and warped, but not always needing a mouth to grow them. Still others had bulging eyes that locked on his eternally rotting corpse. They were always grotesque, amorphous blobs that oozed and folded inward. Eldritch creations of nightmares, the things that lay forgotten in the dark, demons that starved for more.

******The group of them inched forward slowly, long enough for pieces of him to grow back. Last time was brutal, his lower jaw was missing, his arms ripped from him, his torso gashed open and the entrails from within strewn about. He couldn’t find the will to attach emotion to it, painful as it was. His bones cracked as they healed painfully, the feeling of his guts crawling back into place was awful. Yet he never healed all the way by the time the wave made it to him. He could smell them now, their odor was like nothing you could find on earth, it was putrid and lingering. He felt his stomach turn and, still jawless, emptied the bile out around him. Too weak to move, it just pooled there against his face as the first abomination reached him.

Her fingers reached out and grabbed his head, the long appendages sticking into his eye socket and plucking the left eye from his head. She croaked as her mouth open, splitting her head in two and dragging it to her tongue. Even severed, he could feel it, every nerve was still alive as it went down. The rest of them piled on and took bites of him, tore his flesh, devoured his bones. It was excruciating. If he wasn’t so numb at this point, so dead inside, he might cry out. Gods know he did for the first few waves, he wailed in agony, begging to be saved. Something his pride normally didn’t stand for.

No one was coming, though. No one would ever come for him and he’d spend his eternity here in hell, being constantly eaten by monsters with every breath he took being some of the most painful things he did.

_It’s not fair._ He thought. _Worse people than me have gotten less. I wanted justice, peace for my family. It’s not fair._

That thought repeated over and over in his head as the sound of his flesh being consumed became rhythmic.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair._

His tongue was bitten off, hair pulled out, feet shredded into pieces.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair._

They took and took, carving him up and feasting. He was in agony; the pain was unbearable. Everything he’d wanted had been for nothing and all he’d gotten for his justice was imprisonment. They took his fingers, his ears, his nose. All the while, pieces had slowly started to grow back again.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair._

Tears pricked for the first time in what felt like centuries, though it likely wasn’t. A few even streamed down his face, but it only served to call attention to his remaining eye, and one of the toothed creatures went to bite it out. ******

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. _

_Please, kill me._

And then there was a loud rumbling. The entire fabric of the dimension was quaking. The abominations began to scatter as quickly as their sluggish forms would let them. Loud noises echoed off every corner of the plane, bouncing everywhere and rocketing through his minced body. There was a surge of heat and light, a loud boom breaking just overhead and causing his ears to ring.

The ringing and the light blanketed him, and suddenly he was falling, rain drenching his body. Before he could turn himself to see where he was headed, he hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. He coughed repeatedly, the mud and muck around him stuck to skin he thought he’d lost. It caught him off guard, and he struggled to prop himself up, his arms and legs weak as if he hadn’t used them in months. His elbow gave out and sent him back into the mud, now clumping up his hair. His skin felt like it was just coming out of the heat, like a sunburn, it still burned but it faded slowly, the cool rain acting as his aloe.

He heard a door open, there was a pause, and then he heard footsteps slosh through the mud behind him. He kept trying to lift himself to roll over and face this being, uncomfortable with the fact he couldn’t see them or know what manner of beast they were, when a blanket was tossed over him.

The being moved closer, wrapping him up in it as tightly as he could, though not without getting the blue fabric a little dirty. He felt himself be lifted up by the gentlest hands he’d felt in his life, all 3000 years of it. The fabric covered his face and he was in no position to try and worm out of it as they moved back toward wherever this thing had come from.

The rain overhead stopped, or rather, it no longer dampened him. He could still hear it pattering away somewhere else. It didn’t matter. This thing carried him for a while, up some stairs and off down what he assumed was a hallway. Finally, he was set down, left to sit on another cold floor. He jolted at the feeling, his body reacting in fear at the idea of being left somewhere cold, but as he pulled the blanket off his face, he saw the floor was tile.

He was in a house.

He stared at the back of his savior’s head, it was covered by the hood of a rain jacket. This stranger fumbled with the faucets on a bathtub, letting it fill with water. Once they were satisfied with the bath, the stranger turned around and he looked on at his savior with slightly widened eyes.

“Ha… Ryou Bakura, as I live and breathe.” His thin, dried lips quirked into a smirk.

Ryou didn’t seem amused, if anything his expression looked exhausted. He shrugged the rain jacket off and moved to collect him off the floor. The blanket was left behind, and it was now that he realized he’d fallen from the heavens naked as a newborn. The skin on skin contact highlighted how cold he was, as Ryou’s hands and arms were so warm, he wondered if he might be singed. And when Ryou set him in the bath, the hot water was ten times more jarring and he hissed at the contact.

“Such hospitality.” He cooed, hiding himself behind that veil of mockery he so loved. “What a gentleman~”

Ryou sighed and grabbed a cloth, starting to wash the dirt off his body. The water turned brown rather quickly, and Ryou had to empty and refill it. Every touch was so delicate, as if Ryou were worried he’d break him, though the numb expression he carried hardly gave that impression. Even when Ryou graduated to cleaning his hair of muddy clumps, he remained as gentle as ever.

He scowled. “Must you treat me like I’m porcelain?”

Ryou paused, looking at his face for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky right now. Would you prefer I dug my fingers in harder, Spirit?”

That name gave him life, renewed any sense of self he had left in his weathered body. Another smirk twitched across his features.

“So, you have some bite to you now? My my…”

Ryou ignored him and rinsed his hair out and drained the tub, refilling it again. This time, he sat back, pulling his knees to his chest and just stared at the Spirit. They both just stared at each other. The rain was the only soundtrack.

“What are you doing here?” Ryou asked finally, his tone wavering slightly.

The Spirit hummed, the full extent of his hoarse voice apparent. “I can’t really say. One moment I’m lounging in the dark, king of the shadows, and the next I’m plummeting into your house. I suppose you should be grateful I didn’t crash through the roof.”

“You didn’t do this then?” Ryou didn’t seem to believe him, his eyes wary. There was something else about the way Ryou looked at him that the Spirit couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Why would I want to leave and give up my throne?” He scoffed, sinking into the water. He wouldn’t dare tell Ryou about the reality of his time there. Vulnerability was not an option, it was never an option.

“If you miss it so much, just leave.”

“I’m not sure it works like that, host. I didn’t exactly choose to be here, why would you think I could choose to go back?”

“I’m not your host, and I don’t know. Worth as much as any other idea.” Ryou stood up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go find something for you to wear.”

The Spirit watched Ryou walk out and the moment he was gone, he tried to stand up. His arms shook with the weight of his body, trying to lift himself up. All he managed to do really was dump himself over the side and onto the tile. He swore under his breath as Ryou returned with a frown to see what had happened.

“Why didn’t you just wait?” He asked, stepping over to him and lifting him onto the lid of the toilet.

“Because I don’t need _you _to help me.” The Spirit seethed. “I can walk.”

That tired expression fell on Ryou’s face again and he just turned to continue looking for clothes without replying to the Spirit’s prideful foolishness. This time, he stayed put until Ryou returned with a towel and some clothes. It took a few minutes to dry him, but once he was dry enough, Ryou started tugging a shirt over his head, helping his arms through the holes like a parent would a child.

The whole thing really pissed him off.

“I can do it _myself, _landlord, I do not need your pity!” He shouted, his voice cracking due to the strain. It was like this body hadn’t spoken in ages.

“I’ll let you put the shirt on yourself next time, but I really don’t see how you’ll get your pants on if you can’t even stand, unless you’d like to writhe on the floor like an idiot.” Ryou held up the pair of sweatpants.

The Spirit wanted to argue, assert himself as capable, but at this rate he risked looking like a child throwing a tantrum. He conceded quietly, allowing Ryou to finish dressing him.

Ryou picked him up again, this time carrying him off to a bedroom. The Spirit knew this room well, the walls lined with shelves and figurines. Some of the figurines were familiar and some seemed new. There were posters and books all with the nerdiest topics, things the Spirit had made fun of him for in the past. Right now, it didn’t matter too much, he’d have all the time in the world to catch up on mocking him.

The sheets of the bed were cool, but not unpleasantly cold. They were soft, smelling sweet, the Spirit wasn’t sure if that was just Ryou or the detergent he used. Ryou walked to the other side of the bed and crawled in next to him.

“I take it you can pull the covers up yourself?” Ryou asked, facing his back to the Spirit.

“Is this really the only place you can put me?” The Spirit sighed. “I don’t really want to sleep next to _you.”_

Ryou propped himself up and looked at him as if he were ridiculous. “You just fell out of the sky and can’t even lift yourself up to crawl anywhere and you think it’s a good idea to just… have a room to yourself? I know you’ve said you don’t want my help but that seems particularly stupid, even for you. I can’t really help you if you can’t come wake me up.”

He glared. “I don’t recall asking for your help. I don’t understand why you’d give it.”

“Goodnight, Spirit.” Ryou rested back on the bed, back still facing the Spirit.

He was annoyed with Ryou’s insistence on dropping the conversation but conceded regardless. The Spirit let himself relax into the sheets, the moment his head hit the pillow fatigue slammed him like a freight train and he was asleep in moments. The thunder in the distance rolled on, growing quieter and quieter as both boys drifted off.


	2. PTSD

Ryou woke the next morning, staring at the wall on a side of the bed he didn’t normally sleep on. It took a moment for his bleary mind to regain the memories from the previous night. He didn’t want to roll over and confirm his suspicions. He strained his hearing, holding his breath to see if he could hear the other roll, shift, breathe, anything. He realized that the Spirit wheezed with every breath. The sound was so faint you really had to pay attention to hear it, but it was there. Ryou supposed that was all the proof he needed to be certain that last night did happen.

He sat up, casting his gaze over the still sleeping figure. The blankets clung to his body, outlining how thin he was. Every visible angle of him, his shoulder, an arm, a hand, his face all looked like skin clinging to bone. Ryou noticed how brittle his hair looked too. Despite how angry he got about it, the Spirit really did seem as fragile as porcelain.

Ryou got up quietly, leaving his bedroom and walking down the stairs carefully, trying to prevent them from creaking. The house was cold, and he went to turn the heat up. Normally he’d just curl up in a sweater with some tea or cocoa, but with a sickly guest he didn’t want to risk making his condition worse.

_“I don’t recall asking for your help. I don’t understand why you’d give it.”_

The words bounced around in Ryou’s head. He couldn’t provide a reason that he was helping. He knew he was confused about his own emotions, but he also knew he hated the Spirit so deeply that his soul was likely stained. So why _was_ he helping? Because the Spirit was weak and needed it? To keep him from dying? Because Ryou was just nice?

He didn’t feel nice, he felt disgusting. The whole thing felt like a mistake, like he should have just let that worm crawl in the mud. He owed the Spirit nothing and the Spirit owed him everything. That thought felt like poison too. Ryou sighed and rubbed his forehead, a headache starting to come on. Maybe he was going insane.

Padding over to the kitchen, Ryou tucked hair behind his ear and opened the fridge. He pulled out his carton of eggs and some sausage. Might as well cook for his guest too, though by the looks of the Spirit, he was starving to death and someone that thin shouldn’t have a ton of food to eat right off the bat.

The tonal whiplash in his head between trying to help the Spirit and hating him so vehemently was really taking a toll on him. It felt like he was being gaslit from all angles, that every thought he had was wrong or incorrect and that he was insane for thinking that way. It didn’t matter if the thought was ‘help’ or ‘abandon’, his brain told him he was insane and shouldn’t think like that. He had to brace himself on the counter for a moment to collect himself before getting a pan out.

The soft sound of sizzling flooded the kitchen, the scent of cooked sausage wafting about. Ryou had barely gotten the food on a plate when he heard a thud from upstairs. Rolling his eyes, he turned the burner off and grabbed the plate meant for his intruder. Bastard probably tried to walk again…

Sure enough, by the time he’d gotten back to his room, the Spirit was sprawled on the floor, trying to drag himself along the carpet.

“How’s that working for you?” Ryou snorted, setting the food down on the dresser top and moving to his side. He crouched down next to him but didn’t bother picking him up yet.

“It’s working _fine _thank you.” The Spirit hissed, a hand reaching up to grasp at the bedsheets. He tried to pull himself up. His arm looked like it might snap, but he managed to pull himself into a sitting position.

“Would it kill you to stay in bed? At least until you’re not a zombie.” Ryou sighed. “At least then I can help—”

“I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” He spat.

Ryou eyed him for a moment. He watched the Spirit continue to attempt to use the bedsheets as a grip to pull himself to his feet. He just watched, it seemed such a hassle to struggle when someone was literally offering to help. The Spirit was on his knees now, trying to push up off the top of the bed. To Ryou’s surprise, he managed it. One foot, then the other, and soon he was standing on the shakiest pair of legs Ryou had ever seen. It was short lived, he was sent back to the floor, landing on his knees on the way down.

Wordlessly, Ryou just lifted him to sit on the edge of the bed. He was so light, but then when you had no fat or muscle mass, you didn’t weigh much of anything.

“I suggest you try and sit back in bed. I’ve got food, hopefully that’ll help you feel somewhat better.” Ryou turned his back to grab the plate from the counter. He heard shuffling behind him. It took a while, but once the Spirit had stopped moving, Ryou finally turned to face him. The Spirit looked tired already, the small amount of physical exertion must have taken all his energy and then some. He was so thin that he practically swam in the mattress around him.

Ryou placed the plate in his lap, leaving a glass of water on the side table. “Don’t eat too quickly or you’ll make yourself sick. There isn’t much on that plate as is, but you shouldn’t take the chance.”

The Spirit didn’t respond, he just glared at his plate. Ryou hesitated for a second and then went to leave. If the Spirit wanted something, surely, he could call. His hospitality extended far enough, he didn’t feel the need to eat with him too.

As he sat on the couch, Ryou picked at his plate, his appetite diminished. There was nothing he wanted and the thought that the Spirit was in his house made it hard to do anything but cave to his anxieties. Sure, he was frail now, but when he wasn’t? And Ryou was helping him! He’d get the Spirit back to strength and then what? Suffer for his kindness? That’s all the Spirit knew how to do, punish weakness. Any shred of kindness or loyalty was never rewarded, it was reinforced with isolation and abuse.

The word ‘abuse’ stuck in his brain. He’d always known somewhere that the Spirit was his abuser, but it never really hit him until now when he actually had the control to do something. He was going to be a fucking statistic of battered people who run back the second they have a chance. Thinking that way made him feel guilty too, he knew it wasn’t their fault they felt they needed to go back, but he couldn’t afford to apply that same leniency to himself. It was his fault. It was his fault for being a weak, soft, needy bastard who craved the companionship of the only constant presence in his life. He was too pathetic to find it elsewhere.

Yugi, Jounochi, Anzu, Honda… he loved them all dearly. It wasn’t their fault he had trouble connecting with them after Egypt. Truly, he’d always felt like he had difficulty connecting with them, even before. They were such nice, wonderful people who always went out of their way to include him when they could, and he was forever grateful.

So why did it feel like they couldn’t give him the same feeling of togetherness he’d gotten from a man who’d ruined his life?

Ryou buried his face in his hands, holding back the urge to cry. Everything around him seemed so grey and mundane. The many instincts he had were fighting with each other to the point that he didn’t know what the right thing to do was. Ryou could only continue on autopilot, making food, cleaning up after him, carrying him places… perhaps the solution would present itself.

After several minutes sitting like this, he finally just gave up on his food and carried it to the kitchen. He saved the sausage in the fridge but scraped the eggs into the trash. For a moment he stared at them, he wasn’t sure why, perhaps he was avoiding climbing back up the stairs, a task which became more and more mountainous with each trek.

But he went anyways, up the stairs to the bedroom, where the Spirit waited for him as if he’d summoned Ryou himself.

“It’s about time you returned.” He huffed. “I’m done with this.”

Ryou twitched but took the plate from his lap. Suddenly climbing back _down_ the stairs seemed just as difficult as climbing up them and before he could suck in a breath and force himself to press on through his haze, he heard the Spirit speak again.

“... Still so obedient.”

It was like a purr, a taunt, targeting the rawest nerve Ryou had in him. And when it hit, it hit hard and something inside him just snapped clean through.

“Excuse me?” Ryou’s grip on the plate tightened.

A snort. “I said you’re still obedient. It’s a good trait really, makes things less annoying.”

Ryou spun on his heel, whipping around so hard his white hair flipped over his shoulder. The suddenness of his actions seemed to stun the Spirit, whose eyes widened for a second before they narrowed at him. Ryou searched for his words, something to throw back at him but all he had was blind anger and frustration, and instead of some huge mic drop moment he could only come back with fury.

“Obedient?! What am I, your slave?” Ryou snapped. “I bring you in here and help as best I can, with no benefit to my person and everything out of your mouth is just so ungrateful! I’m not your plaything to order around when you see fit, but because you can’t walk on your own you’ve just decided that you’ll either injure yourself trying or just command me to do it. News flash! I was going to do it anyway and your stupid orders and commands only come off as childish and insecure!”

The Spirit laughed. “You want to talk to me about childish and insecure? You’ve been seeking some form of validation since you carried me inside last night. I didn’t ask for it and now you feel entitled to my praises, I’d say _that’s_ very childish and insecure!”

“I’m sorry we’re not all heartless assholes like you! Some of us see someone in need of help and just do it with no thought of themselves. You didn’t ask for help, but what were you planning on doing with a body like that? Crawl your way through thefts? Shake a bony fist at people who won’t cough up their wallets? Not even that! You can’t even crawl that well! I offered my help! Not that you’ve ever done me any favors!”

“No favors? Landlord, I’m shocked! I granted your wish remember?” He gestured to the Monster World figurines that lined the shelves in his room. “And if that’s not good enough, without me you’d never have met Yugi or his friends, would you?”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your landlord, I’m not your host, I’m not yours anymore! I’m my own person! You didn’t grant me anything, you terrorized your way through every friend I had as a child until father moved me here and you got _lucky _that the Pharaoh had already manifested by then. You have never in your life done anything for my benefit!”

“If you feel that way then why did you even help me? You clearly can’t stand me.” The Spirit leaned back against the headboard. “I wonder if it’s because you’re lonely. I wonder, in the time I spent _ruling the shadows_, what have _you_ accomplished?”

Ryou seethed. “What on earth do you get from being so condescending all the time?! Especially now that you have nothing. There is no possibility of revenge, the Pharaoh’s gone. You wanna psychoanalyze me? Two can play at that. I think you’re saving face because you know you have nothing, and you want to go back to the way things were. You needed me then and you need me now, but the difference is that you’re not in control of what I do now, so you don’t have to care so much anymore.”

“Care? I’m not going to listen to a child who can’t comprehend the fact he’s trying to revive a relationship that never existed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an idiot if you think I ever cared about you.”

Ryou’s body went cold. He _had _known that already for so long, yet hearing it made him feel worse. They shared a mind, a soul, a body, and a heart and not a single part of the Spirit cared, even a little?

“I don’t think I’ve ever deluded myself about that.” A half-truth. “You ruined my life. There are entire chunks missing from my memory, _years _that I’ll never get back because you were busy hurting people and forcing me to behave. I’m not listening anymore.”

“And yet you’re still catering to me.” The Spirit smirked.

“No, I’m not.” Ryou took a step closer to the bed. “I’m not listening anymore, because I’m telling. You’re going to stay in bed, and you’re going to swallow your pride and behave. You _will_ be nice to me, you _will_ respect me and my home, and you _will_ keep your stupid nicknames out of earshot. Do I make myself clear?!”

The Spirit rolled his eyes. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll put you back outside and you can die in the cold.”

A silence fell over the room. Ryou could feel his heart racing away as his anger spoke for him. The more that sentence settled, the more he believed it himself. In that moment he felt he would not hesitate to turn his back and walk away.

“You don’t have the nerve.” The Spirit tried to call his bluff, but Ryou wouldn’t budge.

“Winter is around the corner, you won’t survive long without shelter.”

The Spirit didn’t counter this time, he fell silent and stared at the wall instead. After a moment of this, Ryou turned to leave the room with the plate he’d been clinging to this whole time. As he walked down the stairs for the millionth time in two days, he couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was so much easier to claim you could cut someone out of your life, than to actually do it. When push came to shove, Ryou wasn’t totally sure he could follow through with his threats. Now that his anger had dissipated, his belief in his ability to kick the Spirit to the curb was dwindling. All he could do now was hope that the Spirit believed him more than he believed himself.


	3. Diagnosis

The moment the Spirit was able to walk, Ryou shoved him off in a different bedroom. It’d been a few weeks and he was eager to get his room to himself again. Ryou busied himself, making the bed, getting all the pillows moved around. The Spirit didn’t really have belongings, so it wasn’t a tedious change. The Spirit watched Ryou busy himself, leaning against the wall as he rushed about like a bee.

Ryou was always fussing over him, it didn’t matter what it was. If the Spirit needed something, Ryou never hesitated to go get it for him, though with varying levels of annoyance. It seemed rather obvious now that he really didn’t need to be ordering the boy around. The Spirit wasn’t sure what to make of any of it, Ryou seemed to genuinely harbor negative emotions toward him. But every chance he got to scorn the Spirit or harm him, he chose not to. The few times the Spirit tried to pry a reason out of him was met with subject change or something vague, leading him to the conclusion that Ryou wasn’t sure himself. The Spirit was rather confident in that assessment, Ryou didn’t have it in him to keep secrets and lie to him, he wasn’t slick enough.

“There, you’re all set. I’m across the hall, obviously, but you should be able to just go get whatever you need anyways.” Ryou was out of breath after all that fuss.

“Ah, I see, you just want to stop waiting on me.” The Spirit hummed.

“I thought you didn’t like being reliant on someone.” Ryou retorted back.

He didn’t respond this time, he’d made his opinion on that pretty clear. The Spirit walked to the center of the room and just kind of looked at the bed for a moment. When exactly was the last time he’d had one of his own? He couldn’t remember, it must have been a long time ago.

“Hey uh, can I ask you something?” Ryou piped up.

“I suppose that depends on what it is?” The Spirit looked over his shoulder at him.

“Could you give me your name? It’s kind of weird calling you Spirit.”

Caught slightly off guard, he turned his gaze back to the bed and frowned. His name, huh? The Spirit thought hard about it, but nothing came up. He couldn’t remember his own name. He had the feeling he had known it, but that upon recalling it now it was simply missing from his memory. The Spirit clenched his fists.

“I guess you’ll just have to get over it. I’m not giving you my name.” He replied coolly. “I think Spirit suits me anyway, don’t you agree _host?” _He wanted Ryou to leave, angering him slightly seemed the easiest way to do that.

Ryou pursed his lips. “Fine. I won’t ask then.” He turned to leave, and the Spirit waited until he heard Ryou’s bedroom door close before he moved to go close his own.

It was probably nothing. He’d returned from the shadows where he’d been devoured over and over again, who’s to say what effect that would have on him? With a manufactured confidence, he shook off the unsettling feeling. Of course, he’d remember, he’d never forget something so important. It _must_ be the shock. Suddenly tired, he decided to curl up in his new bed. He didn’t want to think for a while.

* * *

_The darkness was consuming, contradictory. He felt like he was freezing, but at the same time felt as though he were burning. Every step he took got him nowhere. He heard the wails of the damned from deeper in, sometimes he thought he heard someone who’s voice he was familiar with. His feet hurt, he was fairly sure they were bleeding, padding along the frozen ground._

_The farther he went, the louder the noises got. They grew until he stepped out of the shadows and into the light, but this light was far from comforting. All around him men rushed around, dragging villagers to the center and tossing them into a massive cauldron. It didn’t matter their age or gender, they were thrown in like trash._

_They walked through him, he was a ghost among them, unreal and intangible. Their parts were scripted, and they danced about their stage with precision. Confused, he started to move around the scene, a pain collecting in his chest so sharp he thought his heart was about to explode._

_He continued through the village, crossing to the other side where he knew _he_ was hiding. A small boy, crouched behind a wall, fearing for his life and staring out at the chaos with wide eyes. On instinct, he reached out to touch him, but his hand phased through his cheek. The soft whimpers this boy seemed so intent on stifling slipped through unimpeded._

_He turned back to the scene, he’d never seen it from all angles before, all he had was the singular perspective. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see it from all angles. He didn’t want to hear it or smell it… and yet it didn’t matter if he closed his eyed, covered his ears, or plugged his nose. The scene was crisp and clear as if he had no eyelids or hands._

_The throbbing in his chest increased, got worse. With it, a scream bubbled its way into his throat. He tried so hard to choke it down, but the world spun so tightly, images flashed, and the world played itself on loop. It was overwhelming. Pleas for help, prayers that would go unheard, laughter of men allowed to be cruel._

_Higher and higher the urge to scream climbed, tearing him in half with the agony. He felt so dizzy, everything was rushing around and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and forget. He had no strength left, and the scream tore itself from his throat, out into the air—_

\-- and into the real world where he shot upright, his heart pounding in his ears as he struggled to regain his composure. The door to his room flew open, Ryou on the other end of it looking absolutely panicked.

“What is it, what happened?!” Ryou seemed breathless, taking a step past the doorway and into the room.

Some mixture of confusion and embarrassment welled up and the Spirit scowled. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Ryou sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, it’s _okay _to not be okay. I don’t know what you think you’re doing by closing yourself off like that, but it’s just making it harder on yourself.”

“And you’re trying to get me to talk about shit that doesn’t matter!”

“You’re screaming in bed after a nap! I’d say it matters!”

“Landlord if you don’t leave me alone—”

“If you’d just let me in, I might be able to help you better, dammit!”

“I don’t need to do anything for you, landlord.” The Spirit hissed. “You think because I hurt you that I should just cater to you? That I owe you something for the years I used your body? Because it doesn’t matter, you’re not getting anything from me!”

Ryou let him ramble for a while, whatever the Spirit was saying he clearly needed to get off his chest. Once he was done, he processed the spiel, leaving them in silence. Something hit him again, that phrase that rolled in his head so frequently since he collected the Spirit out of the mud.

_“I don’t recall asking for your help. I don’t understand why you’d give it.”_

At first it seemed to him as though the Spirit was being dismissive and questioning Ryou’s motives. Ryou still wasn’t sure why he was helping, it never did make sense to him. Now, he tried to piece together why the Spirit was being so difficult. What does he get from distancing himself from Ryou? Why deny all help despite needing it? Those things could boil down to pride, but those sentences… Why doesn’t the Spirit understand why he’d give him help? Because it makes no sense. Because the Spirit was awful to him. Because he doesn’t deserve that help.

“It’s… guilt.”

“What on this forsaken planet are you talking about, host?” The Spirit folded his arms and scowled.

“You feel guilty… that’s why you don’t want me to help you.”

“Why would I feel guilty? You were a tool, Ryou. A means to an end. Never once have I regretted that!”

Convinced of his reasoning, Ryou stood his ground. “Then why don’t you want my help? You can say you don’t need it all you want but you very clearly did. You’d have died out there if I’d ignored you for long enough. Give me one good reason as to why you don’t want my help.”

The Spirit bristled, some mix of infuriated and annoyed. “I don’t have to give you anything. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll assume I’m correct.” Ryou replied, unphased by his temper.

“How does it change anything, host? Whether or not I feel a certain way changes nothing. Guilt, or lack thereof, doesn’t fix what happened and certainly doesn’t make you want to forgive me. I don’t need your forgiveness. I don’t need your pity. I don’t want any of that! I want to be left alone!”

“Left alone to scream in a bedroom.” Ryou sighed. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. And you’re right, it doesn’t mean I forgive you. But at the very least you can get over yourself. I’m trying to help!”

“Why _are_ you trying to help?! Are you really that masochistic?”

Ryou paused. “I don’t really know why I’m helping. I just am.”

“Right. So, here’s my breakdown of your intentions, since you’re so keen on doing the same for me.” The Spirit leaned back in the bed, resting against the headboard. “Your tormentor falls out of the sky and you go rescue him, bathe and clothe him, make sure he’s fed, all the while facing the same onslaught of verbal abuse and being unwilling to call it quits or relent in making things more difficult for yourself by trying to justify his actions. I think you’re not over me. I think you still think I’m going to be your friend like you hoped for so many years and were unable to do so. I think you’re being nice because you are too scared to let go of me. I’m the longest consistent relationship you’ve ever had, and it pains you to think you could lose it again.” He pulled a lot of those out of his ass, playing off fears he remembered Ryou having when they’d shared a mind.

Ryou swallowed and looked at his feet. “Maybe that’s true. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about this for the past few weeks and I haven’t come up with an answer. For all I know, you’re right, and I’m afraid of losing someone again. If that’s the case, then I’m probably the most pathetic person alive.” He sucked in a deep breath, though it trembled slightly, his emotions thoroughly charged. “But I’m not going to stop helping you. Even if I hate myself for it.”

The Spirit stared at Ryou as he turned to go, mind racing with every word that had been shared between them. Guilt, longing, loneliness, fear… as much as the Spirit hated to admit it, they were more alike than they had realized. And the longer he thought about Ryou’s words, the more he realized he _did _feel guilty. He’d never admit it. He couldn’t admit it.

Ryou had one hand on the door frame when he paused mid-step. He cast a glance over his shoulder, the air in the room felt so thick now. The Spirit stared back, they did like their shared silences. Pausing dramatically seemed to be their favorite activity.

“Spirit, don’t…” Ryou turned his head forward again. “If you need me, or just need anything… please call for me. I’m still here, whether you feel guilty or not. I’m still here.”

He left it there, walking out of the room and closing the Spirits door behind him. It wasn’t terribly late in the day, but they’d spend the rest of the day ignoring each other into the evening… neither was ready to face the other. Yet with all the tension that permeated every corner of the house, there was a crack in the barrier between them. Tiny, but crucial.


	4. Glossophobia

The spirit jolted awake, the edges of dawn barely starting to cross the room. He’d had the dream again. He’d had the dream every night since the first time he’d had it, or any time he closed his eyes for that matter. The result was restless sleep and no ability to rest later if it suited him. Every time he’d see the same thing play over and over, the smell of their flesh wrenching his gut in knots until it was so painful, he woke, startled, upset.

Ryou had noticed his lack of sleep, dark circles having formed under the Spirit’s eyes. While the Spirit didn’t have the humility to tell him what was happening, but he didn’t brush Ryou off with hostility anymore either. When asked he’d say he didn’t want to talk about it. That seemed to be enough for Ryou, who’d try to move on regardless of the elephant in the room.

Caught in the loneliness of fear, he got up out of bed. Something struck him inside, the sudden need to be near someone. The closest ‘someone’ was Ryou, so the Spirit crossed the hall to his room. He didn’t bother knocking, which ended up being a mistake as he opened the doors to catch Ryou in the middle of dressing for the day.

Ryou stared at him for a moment, surprised by the intrusion, but hardly angry. He’d already gotten his jeans on, but what was missing was his shirt. The Spirit found himself unable to look away. Scars littered his body, five indentations in his chest, arranged in an arc, pink against his pale skin. One huge gash across his left arm that stretched from bicep to triceps. There was an assortment of smaller ones, inflicted as punishment over the years, but they were rather small and only served to highlight his larger scars. The Spirit couldn’t see his left hand but was acutely aware of the scar on his hand and palm, it itched in the back of his mind, but he didn’t want to see the set of three completed.

“Sorry… I shouldn’t have barged in.” The Spirit muttered.

“It’s fine. I’m not exactly indisposed right now am I? Is there something you needed?” Ryou scratched the scars on his chest, self-conscious despite his attempt to reassure the Spirit otherwise.

The Spirit hesitated to speak. He wasn’t used to voicing vulnerability. Honestly, he’d yet to do so. The most improvement he’d made was in ceasing his attempts to get Ryou to leave him alone or stop helping him.

“I dunno… it’s quiet.” He muttered.

Ryou frowned. “It’s morning, of course it is.”

“Ah, right. I don’t know what came over me, I’ll just go.” The Spirit scratched his neck awkwardly. Everything was so awkward now. It was like the tension shifted from rageful to strange. Everything felt weird now.

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” Ryou reminded him, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I think I’m just out of it. I’ll be fine. Where are you going so early anyway?”

“Yugi texted, said we need to go to the museum. Isis flew in suddenly with something she wanted to talk about. It sounded pretty urgent.” He shrugged.

So, he’d end up being alone the whole day anyway. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

Ryou frowned again. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem kind of off.”

He scowled, growing defensive. “Yes. I’m _fine._”

“Jeez, okay… I’ll see you later.” He slipped on his shoes and headed down the stairs. The Spirit waited until he heard the front door close before he exited the room as well and decided to find something, _anything, _to distract himself.

* * *

Ryou met Yugi outside a café halfway between his house and the museum. Yugi waved him down, having taken a seat at one of the outdoor tables to wait for him. It was chilly enough outside that Ryou felt bad for making him wait while he talked to the Spirit. He felt even worse knowing he hadn’t told Yugi about the Spirit yet…

Yugi stood and handed him a sealed cup of something warm from the café. “I got some cocoa since we’ll be walking in this for a while.”

“Oh, gosh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” Ryou took it, offering a grateful smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s the least I can do for calling you out so early.”

“You made it sound so urgent…”

“Well… so did Isis. She apparently flew in as fast as she could, wanted to speak with us specifically.” Yugi shrugged, taking a sip from his own cup. “She’s not really the impulsive type, so it seemed really important.”

It did feel really odd, something must be very wrong if she’d just leave Egypt on a sudden, expensive overnight trip. The fact that it was just himself and Yugi going made it stranger, and Ryou couldn’t help but worry it had something to do with the Spirit’s sudden appearance. Did she know? He shook that thought off, there was no way she knew no one could know.

As they approached the museum, Ryou could feel his stomach doing flips. It was probably ridiculous to think that he was in some kind of trouble, like he’d done something wrong. Though truthfully, he doubted anyone would have reacted differently to the Spirit plummeting into the mud. That was assuming anyone actually knew he was there.

Yugi held the door for him and Ryou muttered an apology. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inside the museum. It must have been a few years… His fingers fumbled around each other, twisting and lacing worriedly.

They were greeted pretty quickly, Ryou almost jumped and chided himself for being so on edge over _nothing._ But it certainly didn’t feel like nothing.

“Thank you for getting here on such short notice. I apologize for rushing you.” Isis nodded at both of them. She turned to walk further into the museum, motioning for them to follow. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we’ve been excavating the site of the ruins where the ceremonial duel was held for a while now, it has been quite the project, and we have unearthed the Sennen Items recently.”

“Y-you found them?” Yugi seemed stunned, almost anxious.

Isis nodded. “It helped that we knew where to start looking. When we first unearthed them, they were fine, nothing was broken or missing. We brought them back to the museum to prepare for display and then… well, I’ll show you.”

She led them into a back room, a table in the center of the room had each item laid on it, a number next to each piece. When Ryou saw them, he stopped cold. Out of every item, the ring had started to turn black. A huge, black spot stretching outward from the eye on the center had begun to move across the metal. The worst part was that this blackness pulsated, like a living shadow, threatening to consume the entire object.

“It was maybe a week after we brought them back that this happened. I think it was perhaps three weeks ago.” Isis moved around the other side of the table, looking at the items before looking up at Yugi and Ryou.

Ryou swallowed hard. The Spirit had appeared three weeks ago, and he suspected the two events were related. In fact, he was certain of it.

“What can we do?” Yugi asked.

“I was wondering if either of you noticed anything off? The both of you were so closely tied to the items, Bakura specifically since the ring is the one turning colors.”

Ryou shoved his hands in his pockets nervously, trying to think quickly. Should he tell them? Would they be mad he hadn’t said anything before? He chewed his lip a bit before dropping his gaze to his feet.

“W-well, the um… the Spirit did… return.” He scratched his neck.

The stunned silence that filled the room felt like a weight. Ryou looked up to see them both staring at him with slightly widened eyes. He didn’t know what to say next, all he could do was continue to explain.

“He sort of fell out of the sky?” Ryou’s voice quirked up, the sentence sounding more like an incredulous question. “He could barely move and was practically a skeleton. He’s uh… I left him at home, actually.”

After a moment, Yugi spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me? This could be bad right? He could hurt you.”

“I guess so.” Ryou sighed. “But I don’t think you understand that this time _I could hurt him. _If he came at me, I could actually defend myself. He’s not living in my head anymore.”

Isis set the ring down again. “While this is troubling news, I am not yet sure what to make of it. If the changes to the ring are related to his appearance, as I suspect they are, then we need to proceed with caution.”

“So, what do you want me to do then?” Ryou asked.

“For now, just keep an eye on him. It will likely make him paranoid if he realizes we’re suspicious of his sudden appearance. And if he isn’t hurting you then I’d say you’re in the best position to see what moves he makes. If he’s planning something, then we need to be prepared. Has he said anything to you?”

Ryou paused to think for a moment, pressing a knuckle to his mouth thoughtfully. “He said he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here either. When I asked, he just said he was in the shadows one moment and then here the next. He was pretty annoyed too, said he’d been ruling over the shadows and that whatever brought him here caused him to give up his throne.” Ryou didn’t quite believe the Spirit’s story, but he did believe that the Spirit had no idea how he’d come back to Domino.

“Besides, he was on death’s door when he arrived. If he’d gotten here on his own, I think he’d do it in a way that let him keep his strength.” Ryou finished. “He wouldn’t give power up for anything if he had some kind of master plan.”

Isis nodded. “We’ll keep an eye out regardless. I’ll call the two of you if there’s any changes here. I don’t plan on returning until this is sorted out, especially now that I know the Spirit has returned from the shadows.”

“Right, okay. We’ll see you around then.” Yugi offered a small smile before turning to walk out of the museum with Ryou.

The silence was palpable and awkward. Yugi was purposefully not looking at him and it was driving him crazy. Each step made Ryou’s legs feel heavier, the guilt in his head weighing him down more and more. Even the rush of cool air making contact with his skin upon stepping outside did nothing to quell the anxiety building in his throat.

“When did he come back?” Yugi asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“M-maybe a month ago? Something like that?” Ryou admitted quietly.

Yugi searched his face, a deep frown forming. “You should have told me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I don’t know! I wasn’t sure what to do! He literally fell out of the sky and there’s not exactly a handbook for stuff like that. I was so focused on making sure he wasn’t gonna die that I didn’t think about it.”

“You could have told me when we met up then!” Yugi insisted.

“I didn’t really know how to say it… maybe that’s an excuse. I didn’t want to worry you or the others.” Ryou knew Yugi was right, he should have told them. He let himself get in his own head and instead of reaching out for help he just turned himself inward.

Yugi took a breath and let it out softly, calming down a little. “I worry about you, you know. You’re my friend, you should have told me. I want to help you if I can.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Ryou couldn’t meet Yugi’s eyes, he was far too ashamed.

“Do you know? Because you’re not exactly open with me, with any of us. We want you to be okay. We want you to be happy. It’s okay to rely on people sometimes, Ryou.”

“Isn’t that selfish of me though? To just… burden everyone with my problems? Usually whatever is bothering me isn’t worth bothering you with.”

“Did you decide that for us? Because I don’t recall telling you that any of your problems were a burden. It’s not selfish to ask for help sometimes, it isn’t selfish to tell people what’s wrong. Your _friends_ want to know that stuff! Even if you think it’s dumb or small! We want to know what’s wrong, we can’t be there for you if you don’t tell us what you need help with. Don’t decide for me what is and isn’t worth listening to, Ryou, that’s not fair to us or you.”

Ryou couldn’t think of anything to say in response, words didn’t come to him, but his throat tightened significantly. He sat with his insecurities, let them fester because he was afraid that talking about them would push them away. He’d spent so much time alienated from them that he wanted to be as approachable as possible. In the end he only came across as a shell of a person, his worries rattling inside him.

“I should get going, I gotta help with the shop today. I’ll text you later okay? Get home safe.” Yugi smiled softly, waving as he walked down the steps of the museum, leaving Ryou with his thoughts.

Ryou felt stuck on those stairs, ruminating on the things Yugi had said. Walking for home felt impossible and he was afraid of what might happen if he tried. But Ryou couldn’t stay stuck forever, and slowly but surely, he took his first step.


	5. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a couple comments at this point and they're both super kind. I wanted to say thank you before this chapter begins because stuff like that really helps me feel confident about posting something. So thanks so much and I'm really glad you enjoy the directions I'm going with this.

Now able to leave the house when he pleased, the Spirit would spend his evenings going on walks. Usually down to the park or some other close location. It was better than sleeping. Every single night since the same dream played in his head. And while he couldn’t stave sleep off forever, he could certainly avoid it for as long as possible.

The Spirit would sneak out, either not wanting to wake Ryou or not wanting to deal with his questions if he saw. His relationship with the boy had become rather vague these days. The two were stuck in limbo between hate and indifference and this ceaseless desire to reach out for some kind of help annoyed the shit out of the Spirit. He hated vulnerability and Ryou had seen the Spirit in nothing but vulnerability since he landed in the back yard.

The Spirit had been sitting on a swing set in the middle of the park about a block from the house, his thoughts catching up to him and the idle back and forth movement he’d been making stopped abruptly. Angry with himself, he kicked sand up into the air, scattering it in the wind.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

Puny.

It would get him nowhere being this insignificant. He had to get stronger, had to keep moving had to—

Had to _what _exactly?

The realization that the Spirit no longer had purpose hit him like a ton of bricks. The Pharaoh had won, his family hadn’t gotten their vengeance, and now he had no way to continue it. He had nothing to strive for, no goals or passions, just these stupid dreams and a new life he never thought he’d get. He supposed that most people would take this chance to turn their lives around, run away with their second chance. All the Spirit could think about, though, was the fact he had no idea where to go with it.

What do you even do if you have nothing left?

He’d always thought he had nothing left but even then he had his mission, his hatred, his god… but those things were taken from him and all he had left was the hatred and the confusion. He couldn’t even remember his own name!

After a moment of wallowing, the Spirit stood from the swing. He’d had enough contemplation, maybe the walk home would distract him. It never did, but he liked to think that might change.

Ryou’s house sat in the middle of the row, lights off, no movement. The Spirit entered the house, carefully closing the door behind him when the lights flicked on and a very sleepy Ryou stood at the base of the stairs.

“What are you doing? It’s like… 2am.” Ryou yawned.

“Went out.” The Spirit answered vaguely, trying to push past him.

“Well I can see that!” Ryou sighed. “Where’d you go?”

“For a walk, what does it matter?!” The Spirit glared, but Ryou wouldn’t budge.

“You’ve been acting weird lately, being super distant and quiet all the time and now you’re going out late on walks? You didn’t go steal from someone did you?”

“No! I went for a damn walk! I didn’t go robbing the neighborhood, for fucks sake! I just want to go to bed, let me through!”

Ryou hesitated for a moment, wanting to press the issue further. Something was wrong and for whatever reason the Spirit wasn’t going to tell him about it. With a sigh, Ryou stood aside and watched the Spirit walk up the stairs, grumbling until his door slammed behind him.

The Spirit stared at the bed. He didn’t want to lay down and see them like that again. He didn’t want to keep reliving that horror. He’d had nightmares about it before, but none were this vivid and real… none made him feel like he could feel the flames and smell the metal. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and shake the fear from his body. They’re just dumb dreams!

Crawling into the cool sheets, he tossed and turned for a bit before sleep overtook him.

_Burning flesh. The pungent smell met his nose immediately. The vague orders of guards barked into the night as men, women, and children were dragged to the center._

_He didn’t want to see._

_He started trying to explore the area, poking his head in and out of homes and houses but none of them had anything inside. They were empty voids, places where his memories couldn’t reach. It was hopeless to try and do anything else but watch. The screaming certainly didn’t leave him, no matter where he peered through. The voids in the buildings threatened to suck him in. He didn’t stay long._

_It was still impossible to block his senses from it. It never faded and never got any quieter. Sometimes it was so bad he felt like he was suffocating. Today he just felt despondent. There was no need to ignore them when he didn’t have the energy to._

_So, he wandered to his usual place, where the little boy sat staring at the horror. As he rounded the corner he froze, and a loud pounding rose in his ears, drowning everything around him out with its beating._

_The little boy had no face. Just a smooth expanse of tan skin fixated on the cauldron._

_The pounding grew louder and louder until he couldn’t take it anymore._

The Spirit woke, heart beating in his chest so hard it actively hurt. His breathing was absolutely ragged and after taking a second for his senses to adjust, he realized he’d been yelling as he woke. A fact that was punctuated by Ryou bursting into his room just as he’d done the first time. The harsh light from the ceiling burned his eyes as Ryou turned them on and rushed to the bed.

Ryou seemed to search for words, something to say, a question to ask before opening his mouth, but the Spirit cut him off.

“I’m fine.” He hissed.

Ryou pursed his lips and searched his face for a moment before letting out the breath he’d been holding. “No, you’re not. You’re not okay and you haven’t been okay for days.”

“Ryou, I swear to god—”

“I’m not stupid okay, I know there’s something wrong. I don’t really care what the heck you think you’re doing pretending everything is fine, but you need to knock it off! If you would just talk to me…”

“Yeah? What then?” The Spirit snarled. “What would you do? What can you do? You can’t fix anything, and you know it. The only thing that happens if I tell you is you suddenly know what I’m thinking. Nothing gets fixed, nothing gets better. I’m still where I left off and you’ve just exhausted yourself and pried into my business!”

“You don’t know I can’t help!” Ryou retorted. “It’s so stupid that you think you’re too mighty to ask for help but, god, everyone needs help sometimes! I’m not asking you to tell the world your problems, I’m asking you to tell _me _your problems because even if I can’t fix it, maybe I can give you some advice or comfort or _something_ because what you’re doing now is just bottling things up! If you keep that up, you’ll run out of room to hold stuff and you’ll either tell someone or burn out trying to hold it in!”

The Spirit was silent, bitterly glaring at his lap. He didn’t want to look at Ryou and that stupid, awful look of pity he had on his face right now.

Ryou continued. “No one can do everything alone, god knows you’ve had to for way too long.”

The Spirit glanced up at him before looking down at his lap again. “You’ll laugh.”

“I guarantee I won’t.”

Despite the direction of the conversation it wasn’t like the Spirit could just open up and share his feelings. He’d kept everything inside for so long that letting go of any part of himself felt like swimming upstream. It took him a while to actually force himself to say what he wanted to say, even then it was difficult.

“Nightmares.” He muttered.

“What?”

“Nightmares.” The Spirit was louder this time. “Horrible, recurring nightmares every night about the village.”

“That is a difficult one to fix.” Ryou agreed.

“I fucking told you!”

“Hang on, don’t get ahead of me!” Ryou did have an idea but he wasn’t sure how well it would go over, and it certainly meant putting himself out of his comfort zone. “You could always just… stay in my room with me. It might not even work but at the very least I don’t have to guess when you need me.”

“I _don’t_ need you.” The Spirit retorted.

“Right, of course not. Would you humor me then? Couldn’t hurt right?”

The Spirit really didn’t like that idea, he was already making himself weak as he felt and didn’t want to find himself needing someone to cuddle up to because he was frightened. He hated the idea, but that part of him that was so desperately lonely was just as loud as his discomfort for weakness. Torn between pride and fear what was he reasonably supposed to do?

“Fine. One night though, if it doesn’t work, I’ll kick you and we never speak of it again.” The Spirit started to get out of bed, furiously embarrassed.

“If it doesn’t work, we try something else. At the very least it is something I can do right now.” Ryou offered a smile and headed across the hall, leaving the Spirit to turn the lights off as he followed.

He’d spent time in that bed when he couldn’t walk, he’d slept fine then. Was that really the answer? To just keep being physically close to someone? The Spirit didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. He just crawled into the bed and faced away from Ryou. Ryou himself couldn’t help but crack a smile, it was almost childlike how the Spirit behaved, but he’d never tell him he thought so.

And to Ryou’s credit, it was a pretty restful night.


	6. Sympathy

It had been a few weeks and sharing a bed had gotten no less awkward, but at the very least the Spirit could sleep in peace. Any time he dared take a nap, though, the nightmares resurfaced, and so he avoided dozing off at all costs. Something that became harder over the past week because Ryou had become rather restless himself, waking the Spirit with his tossing and turning.

Something had changed. The Spirit almost didn’t notice at first, it was small things like staring off into space too long or forgetting what he was doing a moment after starting it. But as that week had gone on longer, Ryou’s change in behavior became more and more apparent. He wasn’t eating now. He didn’t seem to sleep at all and when he did it wasn’t anywhere near long enough for him to function. Ryou’s hair started tangling up, he’d stopped brushing it. The Spirit wasn’t sure if he should say something or not. Would it be received well? Would Ryou dismiss it? Why did he even care?

There were periods of time that seemed to stretch onward where Ryou would just sit on the couch and stare at the floor. It was his turn to be the zombie and the Spirit didn’t like it one bit. It annoyed him, Ryou hadn’t exactly been chipper upon his return but his sudden melancholic attitude was really starting to piss the Spirit off.

He watched as Ryou had one of these moments, staring off into the distance as if the world around him had faded. He watched for about five minutes before scowling and marching up to him. Ryou didn’t even seem to notice, he was so lost in… wherever his head had gone. So, the Spirit flicked his forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?” Ryou blinked up at him with bloodshot eyes, the bags under his eyes had grown darker.

“You’re… weird.” The Spirit replied, kicking himself internally. He didn’t do the caring thing; he wasn’t good at it.

“Gee, thanks.” Ryou snorted, rubbing his face.

“I mean you’re acting weird.”

“I didn’t realize you cared.”

The Spirit paused. “I don’t. It’s just weird. Why are you like this?”

Ryou gave him a strange look. “Is… is that supposed to be you asking me what’s wrong?”

“Maybe.”

Ryou laughed, and while it sounded hollow, the Spirit took it as a small victory. “Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just not sleeping well.”

Now rather familiar with his guilt, he could identify the feeling that now panged in his chest. “Is that because I’m sleeping in your room?”

“Oh, gosh, no. You’re fine. This happens sometimes, it’s just me.” Ryou offered a weary smile. “I’ll be alright, I promise. It only happens like… twice a year? Maybe less. I just don’t sleep well. It’s nothing you did.”

The Spirit didn’t believe him but knew it’d be hypocritical of him to pry. So instead he tried the same tactic Ryou had been using in the two months since he’d lived there.

“If uh, you…” The words were foreign to him and came out tasting wrong. “If you need, uh, help? Or, uh, if you want to talk, I guess? I’m ah… I’m here.” Was it warm in here? His face felt hot.

Ryou seemed genuinely surprised. “Y-yeah, sure.”

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re always saying that crap. Conversation is a two-way street, you know.” It was _definitely_ warm in here.

“If I need to, I’ll come find you.” Ryou nodded. Though despite his outward agreement, the Spirit wasn’t entirely convinced that he would. Ryou had always been exceptional at bottling his feelings up, a trait he knew his stupid friends hated and one that was rapidly getting on the Spirit’s nerves. However, he knew all too well that he could only push the matter so far. That was another thing they had in common, they tended to be stubborn when vulnerable.

So, he dropped the issue for now. Putting a modicum of trust in Ryou’s words, trust he didn’t have any faith in, but he was trying.

But in the next few days Ryou only continued to get worse. He wasn’t answering his friends when they called or texted, he became rather flat and numb, he even stopped bathing at one point. The Spirit’s concern grew, it felt strange to see him like this. Had he always done this? The Spirit certainly didn’t remember a time Ryou had behaved so destructively. But then the Spirit hadn’t exactly given Ryou the space to be his own person. For all he knew this is how he felt in his head while the Spirit piloted them, not paying any mind to the host he infected.

The Spirit considered phoning his stupid friends, but he wasn’t exactly keen on going to that merry band of idiots for help.

“Ryou, you can’t keep doing this. Just eat something already.” The Spirit nudged him.

“I’m not hungry.” Ryou’s voice was raspy, sounding as tired as he looked.

“That’s not going to cut it this time. Look at yourself! You’re a mess.” The Spirit scoffed. “I don’t know what the problem is, you won’t exactly tell me, but it’s really pissing me off.”

Ryou’s brow furrowed. “Right, because everything I do is designed to make you happy. Buzz off, okay? I’m fine.”

“If I said that to you, you’d keep pushing me to talk, so I’m not going to stop just because you want me to. It pisses me off and I don’t know what to do.” His choice of words could be better, but feelings weren’t something he was particularly good at.

“I don’t care if it upsets you and you don’t have to do anything! I’ll be fine! It passes! I told you this yesterday!” Ryou snapped.

“You told me that _three days ago._ Is your sense of time going too?” The Spirit folded his arms across his chest.

Panic crossed Ryou’s face so intense it caught the Spirit off guard entirely. Ryou dove for his phone, fumbling to unlock it and check the date. That especially stuck out to the Spirit as odd. Did him losing track of time really freak him out that much?

With a sigh, Ryou scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m worrying you. But I really will be okay.”

“I’m _not _worried. It’s just that you haven’t been okay for two weeks now, I have no confidence that you will be okay soon.” The Spirit rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you wouldn’t be. Regardless, I’ll be okay. Soon, too.” Ryou hadn’t looked at him properly once the entire conversation.

He really wanted to keep pushing, stubbornly forge ahead and force Ryou to understand he was engaging in some extremely dangerous self-destructive behavior. He wanted to shake him and yell and threaten him. The Spirit didn’t understand why this mattered to him so much. What he did know is he was frustrated and panicked. Ryou ate maybe every couple days or so and while he was certainly nowhere near anorexic, this kind of pattern had continued for days and even though Ryou did his best to assure the Spirit it was temporary, what if it wasn’t? What if this lasted and the reason was never made clear? What if the Spirit couldn’t fix him at all? He didn’t like uncertainty. He was a planner, he liked things clear at least to himself. He liked knowing where something was going, and this entire experience had been unpredictable to an extent, but he never once expected Ryou would decay like this.

He pursed his lips, hands clenching at his sides. The Spirit had reached the wall and pushing harder on Ryou, again, would get him nowhere closer to understanding. Asking questions got him nowhere, which left him with one other option, and it was an option that was not guaranteed or even expected to work.

“Fine. I’ll let it go. But you _will _eat today, and we _will _go to bed earlier than usual.” It had been a while since he earnestly tried to command the boy. Ryou had put his foot down early that bossing him around would do nothing, that the Spirit did not control him. But if asking wouldn’t work, then maybe telling would.

To his surprise, Ryou conceded with a sigh. “Alright, if it’ll make you feel better. I don’t really want to cook though.”

The Spirit had his foot in the door, and he wasn’t about to let Ryou shut it simply because he didn’t have the motivation to move. “I’m not exactly the best assistant, but I could help you if that’ll make it easier.”

“You want to help me cook dinner?” Ryou looked at him for the first time that conversation. “I suppose… sure. That sounds like fun actually. What’re you hungry for?”

The Spirit snorted and thought for a moment. What were Ryou’s favorite foods again? The boy had a sweet tooth from hell and hated shellfish, but they couldn’t just eat sweets for dinner. He tried to draw back on memories from Ryou’s childhood, but all the good memories of food involved sugary treats. He had a hard time remembering Ryou’s memories. It was a filter through a filter, hazy and dark, but there were things he remembered about Ryou’s life, hopefully they’d be useful.

“What do we have in the house?” The Spirit asked.

Ryou thought for a moment. “Ah, I need to go shopping. I think I have some ground beef though?”

“Hamburgers then. You and your friends like that right?” The Spirit was pretty sure that was Yugi’s favorite food, given how those memories were always characterized by Yugi’s enthusiasm to go to the diner. It would do, though, something familiar with happy connotations. It was good enough.

The attempt wasn’t lost on Ryou either. His expression softened for a moment, searching the Spirit’s face for something. What he was looking for, the Spirit didn’t know. Finally, he stood up.

“We should get cooking then, since you want to turn in early tonight.” Ryou stretched and shuffled to the kitchen, his sweatpants dragging on the floor as he walked with the Spirit in tow.

Cooking was interesting, to say the least. The Spirit was not at all a fan of shoving his hands into wet, mushy meat lumps. Though every time he made a face, Ryou snickered a little. He’d take the teasing over his annoying depressed slump any day.

The Spirit did his best to follow the instructions provided. He still ended up burning himself three times, by the third Ryou was poking fun at him for being careless. It was almost refreshing.

By the time they finished, the Spirit had made a right mess of the kitchen but had succeeded in getting Ryou to relax a little. A mood that, thankfully, carried over to the dinner table.

“I really hope I didn’t fuck this up. If it’s bad, I’m blaming you.” The Spirit almost pouted.

“You didn’t, I’d have corrected you if you weren’t doing something right.” Ryou replied, taking a large bite of his food.

“I get the feeling you like doing that.”

“Correcting you?”

“Telling me what to do.”

Ryou grinned. “It is pretty fun. You don’t usually listen to me so easily.”

“Right now, I just want you to go back to being normal, doesn’t really matter to me how that happens.” The Spirit shrugged.

Ryou paused and looked down at his plate. “Why do you care, exactly? You didn’t really seem to before and you certainly didn’t want me acting this way towards you.”

“That’s a familiar question.” The Spirit hummed. “So, I’ll reply with a familiar answer. I don’t really know. What I do know is that I don’t like it. I like even less that you refuse to tell me what’s wrong, but I’ll take my victories where I can.”

Ryou just stared at his food. “I’m sorry for that. It’s funny, Yugi got mad at me the other day for keeping secrets from him too. He said I should tell friends if something is wrong because they can’t help me if they don’t know.”

“Isn’t that the same thing you were preaching to me?” The Spirit quirked a brow.

“It’s easier for me to deal with other people’s problems. It’s not so easy to deal with my own. For Yugi, I didn’t want him to worry that I was in danger or that you would hurt someone. I figured I’d deal with your arrival on my own and whenever we figured out what was going on, then I’d tell him, and we could figure out what to do next.”

“Is it the not same for me then? Because you’re doing a horrible job at keeping me from worrying.” He frowned, watching Ryou’s expression change slightly, sourer than before but more animated than he had been earlier that day. It was one the Spirit was unfamiliar with.

“It’s not that _you’re _different, it’s that this situation is different. I’m not keeping things from you because I don’t want you to worry. I’m keeping them from you because they’re personal and I don’t want to share right now.”

He could understand that, and the catharsis that came with understanding was enough for him to let the issue go. “I have similar reasons for not sharing things with you, so I get it. I’ll try not to be so pushy.”

“Is that an apology?” Ryou grinned.

“No. It most certainly is not.”

“It’s totally an apology.”

“Ryou—”

“Apology accepted.”

The Spirit clicked his tongue. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of, we should probably turn in once we’re done eating. Do you wanna clean the kitchen now or in the morning?”

“In the morning I guess, I don’t really feel like doing anything right now.” Ryou took another large bite.

“How about I take care of it then?” The Spirit offered.

“Can you even do that?”

“I can wash a fuckin’ dish.” The Spirit huffed.

“Okay, okay.” Ryou laughed. “Sorry.”

Ryou finished off the last few bites of his food and stood to head to bed. He made it to the stairs before pausing to look back at the Spirit. There was this awkward amount of silence that followed before Ryou finally spoke.

“Thank you. This was nice.”

The Spirit wasn’t sure what to do with that. Ryou’s words indicated that he’d done something important, but the Spirit sure didn’t feel like anything he had done warranted such a heartfelt display of gratitude. Had he really been that nice? He certainly felt like all he had done was crudely stumble from one step to another, being nice wasn’t a talent he had.

He could feel this weird swelling in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Y-you’re welcome.” He replied quickly, catching Ryou’s smile as he started up the stairs. “And take a fuckin bath before bed! It’s been days!”

Ryou whined back a cry of “Fiiiiiine!” before the Spirit finally got up to clear the table and clean the mess in the kitchen. He heard the faucet in the bathroom turn on, good. At least Ryou was listening to him now. Even still that slight feeling of worry didn’t go away.

* * *

The Spirit woke in the middle of the night with the very distinct feeling that something was horribly wrong. He sat up and looked around, frowning when he saw Ryou’s side of the bed was completely empty. The covers had been flipped back and the door was left cracked open. Where the hell was he?

Cautiously, the Spirit got out of bed and walked to the door. There was a light from down the hall and a faint noise that he couldn’t quite make out. Careful not to open the door enough for it to creek, the Spirit slipped out into the hallway, feet padding slowly along the outer edges of the floor so the boards wouldn’t give him away either. The closer he got, the clearer the sound was. Sniffling?

Finally standing outside the lit room, the Spirit peered inside, and his stomach dropped. Any irritation he felt for Ryou’s sudden disappearance faded.

The walls were pink with small, white furniture lined with stuffed animals against the walls. The floor had a fuzzy, pink rug that disappeared under the small bed that jutted into the middle of the room. Ryou was sitting on it, his back to the door.

A lot of things clicked into place at once. The Spirit had forgotten about the sister, he’d only known her for maybe two or three years before the accident. What he did remember was how close they had been in that span, only about a year or two apart in age. He remembered them being almost joined at the hip. It felt like a lifetime ago for him, but the Spirit had 3000 years under his belt and only so much space to remember it all. For Ryou it wasn’t so distant, it wasn’t close either, but it was still clear in his mind and heavy on his heart and it had been weighing him down for the better part of a month.

How long had he been in there?

The Spirit’s feet moved for him. Maybe it was because he was human again or because he understood the kind of irrational sense blame that came with surviving an accident like that, but he walked right up to the bed and took a seat behind Ryou. Finally, aware of his presence, Ryou stopped making any noise whatsoever.

Comfort wasn’t really the Spirit’s thing. The past couple weeks had shown that in crystal clear detail. Every step of the way, asking questions was a pitfall of all the wrong words, just leading into argument after argument. Now it suddenly mattered that he tries harder to be good at it. Ryou didn’t need his pitiful attempts to fix the problem. The Spirit didn’t really know _what_ he needed, he wanted to say the right thing or make the right move, something helpful like Ryou did so often for him. He struggled to do _anything_ and just sat there for a moment.

There was a stubborn part of him that kept telling him that he shouldn’t even care. It didn’t matter how guilty he felt or what Ryou had done for him completely out of the kindness of his heart. That the Spirit should just keep to himself and not lift a finger to help. That no longer felt right.

He sucked in a breath and turned his body to look at Ryou. He still couldn’t see his face, and Ryou hadn’t dared speak to him or even move an inch for that matter. He wished he knew what was going on in his head. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on Ryou’s shoulder. He could feel him trembling. Ryou’s head finally turned and the Spirit suddenly felt like he really shouldn’t have come in. He was a disheveled mess, gripping a picture frame in his hands so tightly that his knuckles were bone white. The Spirit moved again, now sitting to the left of Ryou. He hadn’t been pushed away or told to leave but he still felt like he was intruding. Perhaps he was and Ryou wasn’t able to say it. If he did tell him to leave, would the Spirit even listen?

He opened his mouth to say something, give Ryou some sort of reassurance, literally anything than the silence he did give him. But instead of waiting for him to say something, Ryou leaned his head on the Spirit’s shoulder. He went rigid as Ryou began crying again, sending the Spirit into panic mode. What now? He was allowed to touch him at least but what did he do with this?

It hit him pretty suddenly, a faded memory that felt more like static than anything of himself when he was young and alone. The things he wished someone would do for him when he was this upset, knowing full well no one else in the world would ever be there to help him. He reached over Ryou’s lap and hooked his hand around his right leg, his other arm behind his back and over his shoulder. He pulled him, he wasn’t as strong as he would like to be, but with some effort he was able to pull Ryou to him, so he sat sort of curled up on his lap. This was it, the only thing he could do, just… be there. Be close. Keep him company. This seemed to signal to Ryou that he was allowed to cry a little more, and while he wasn’t shouting pained wails at the sky, he did let himself sniffle and sob softly just a little more.

Anniversaries could be powerful, this one certainly was. Bakura vaguely remembered the accident, he had been present in Ryou’s mind at that time but not in control when it happened. Everything came in flashes when he tried to remember it. The squeal of tires and the shattering of glass. The smell of a hospital room. The frantic whispers between Ryou’s father and the doctors. To be the only one to survive was _hell_, something the Spirit knew all too well. And while he wasn’t the softest or the nicest or even the best suited to comfort, he could easily sympathize. Perhaps that was enough.

Neither of them slept at all that night.


End file.
